What, a Parody?
by smoke and fumes
Summary: AU: In a world where Voldemort doesn't exist, Harry Potter leads a crazy life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry along with hormonal friends, horrible lessons and hairy teachers.
1. Hogwarts Express

**WHAT, A PARODY?**

**I wish I owned Harry Potter.  
( I know the story is probably a bit OOC, but! review, and no flames, please. Most likely a H/Hr story. )**

Platform 9 + 3.14

The summer holidays were drawing to a close, and Harry Potter, winding his way through the crowded platform of 9 + 3.14, was filled with a kind of distaste as he boarded the Hogwarts Express. Honestly, the school could do with some funding so as to upgrade the condition of the train; it had become creakier and rustier since the last time he saw it. Seven years of experience at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, however, told him that he was lunatic to think that way; Dumbledore had always maintained that having an 'ancient' train added much more to the schooling experience.

Ronald Weasley, a fellow Griffin Door housemate and one of his best friends, was pumping his arm energetically and waving to the world. Ron was over two hundred years old this year and still lapping life up; strangely enough, he still looked every bit the seventeen-year-old hormonal teenager. Ron only started his official schooling at the same time as Harry (before that, there were the days when the name 'Ronald Weasley' was synonymous to box office success). The Weasleys were the only known possessors of an elixir of life known as the Philosophical Rock, and true enough, Harry spied the red rock clutched tightly in Ron's hand as he approached.

"Yo, mate," Harry grinned.

"Howdy!"

Close-up, though, Harry noticed that Ron looked rather fed-up, and was quite surprised to see streaks of silver lightly running through Ron's sea of red hair.

"Don't ask," Ron started, when he caught Harry staring at him. "Our darling rock here has been boring me with long conversations about the true meaning of life, and I must say it got quite pissed when I wasn't listening, so it decided to dye my hair white—"

But what was truly, seriously white was the face of Ginny Weasley looming in front of the both of them, dressed in an odd get-up of sea-green kimonos and black sandals.

"Geisha," Ginny said simply, smiling indulgently at the both of them.

Ron started muttering something under his breath about the warped ideas of eighty-nine-year-olds, and how he was way past that stage.

A look of mounting irritation was lining Ginny's face.

"Ignore him, dear one," She fluttered her eyelashes at Harry flirtatiously, oblivious to his gagging, and giggled. "I couldn't find the shoes, see, but my sandals match prettily! Like, oh my gosh!"

When Harry turned aside to politely hide his faux vomiting, he came face to face with Hermione Granger, his other best friend, who immediately lauched into a long-winded description about the current book she was reading.

It was Memoirs of a Geisha.

"Shit, not again." Harry tried to mask his horror (the rapidly ticking time bomb in his head told him that between Hermione's rambling and Ginny's dressing, it would only be a matter of five seconds before he exploded) but must have failed, or he might have spoke his thoughts out loud by accident; Hermione was narrowing her eyes at him in a way that reminded him horribly of McGonagall.

"Oh, don't be so racist," she snapped.

Harry protested, "I'm not! Geishas are perfectly fine, but Ginny…"

He left the sentence hanging, and watched with satisfaction as a similar kind of horror marched past Hermione's face. Her mouth fell open for a few seconds, but that was against her principles of Intellectual Behaviour, and she shut it almost immediately.

"What's the matter with her?" For once, Hermione Granger was awestruck as she watched Ginny shuffle her way into the next carriage towards a bunch of first-years, who were looking terrified already.

Without even looking at them, Ron answered, with a rather resigned tone, "She's been like this for weeks. Mom calls it 'Nostalgia of the Nineties'. Just last week, she was a gay cowboy."

The rest of the journey passed in a rather awkward silence, which they later blamed on Ginny's odd behaviour. Frankly, Ginny was very much turning into a second Dudley Dursley, and that was saying something. Over the course of the summer holidays, Dudley Dursley (Harry always thought of his cousin as some kind of cross-breed between a pig and a human) did nothing but laze on the couch, watching American Idol reruns and crowing painfully to the lyrics the contestants were singing, and mimicking their actions. The whole process was a horrible and damaging one that Harry preferred to steer away from, even in his thoughts; it had ended with a blown-up television and a sulky Dudley that he had to endure with for weeks.

When the train finally arrived at Hogwarts, after a record timing of three and a half hours (it got slower every year; the name 'Hogwarts Express' was fast becoming an annoying kind of exaggeration), the entire school population dragged their way to the Greatest Hall.

Dumbledore was beaming fondly down from the staff's table.

"Everyone," he cleared his throat, "take your seats! I have an announcement to make."

The Hall began buzzing again, and the silence between the trio was broken by a snort from Ron, "Who d'you think it will be this year?" Echoes of this same statement found themselves being repeated over and over again by the students, and the guesses of "McGonagall!" "Yeah, Sprout!" were halted by Dumbledore tapping on his glass.

Peering through his half-moon spectacles at the curious faces of the Hogwarts students, Dumbledore said serenely, "Before the feast begins, I request you Griffin Doors, Huff and Puffs, Raven Claws and Sly the Rims to give me your fullest attention. This is a rather important piece of news that will most probably change Hogwarts History.

"Winky the house-elf might not be recognisable to you all, but she is a regular fixture in my life. Tonight I announce my engagement to Winky, my on-off girlfriend since the 1980s, and promise to love her forever more!"

**All reading and no reviewing makes YOU a dull person!**


	2. The Bloody Prince

**WHAT, A PARODY?**

_Disclaimer: _J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I am not J.K. Rowling. Piece the sentences together, and use your nifty little brain to figure out what -carcrash is trying to tell you

_Thanks to:_

**Paladin of Doublethink**, THANKYOU, FIRST REVIEWER (: Here's the update! I love parodies AND tragedies; they're total opposites but well, one's amusing and the other's sad. Diverse, eh. Yeah, I know it's weird. I'm weird too.

**Pray for the Soul of Betty**, (points at the words 'Chapter Two'). Thanks for reviewing!

**Taylor-leighyoung**, Ginny bashing! Ok actually I don't mind HarryGinny much, but it's the RonHermione pairing that irks me.

_and all those who reviewed at **Computer Wizardry**_.

Horror of horrors, Chapter Two has begun.

* * *

**2: The Bloody Prince**

Following Dumbledore's announcement was a silence that worked its way down the four long tables as Griffin Doors, Huff and Puffs, Raven Claws and Sly the Rims slowly absorbed the gravity of the Headmaster's words. For Harry the news was shocking, in that Dobby, one of the house elves, had always been providing him with secret information (especially on the hottest girls in Hogwarts, who Snape was currently involved with, etc, etc), but this time, he hadn't said anything about the warped Winky-Dumbledore affair.

"I thought he was dating McGonagall!" Ron whispered into the silence.

There was a short laugh from Hermione. "Well, Ronald, he changes his girlfriend yearly, y'know," she explained, matter-of-factly. "And anyway, the whole Winky thing was pretty obvious to begin with. Winky's obsession with BeerButter and getting herself drunk was really to do with Dumbledore, not that dastardly Barty Crouch…" She would have continued more about SPEAR (Society for the Protection of the Elves' Apt Rights), but stopped when Dumbledore started tapping his glass to the tune and rhythm of Dragonstea Din Tei.

"MAI-A-HI! MAI-A-HU! MAI-A-HO! Tuck in to your feasts, students! I have no more announcements to make, and henceforth shall set off providing music as you eat!" The Headmaster was grinning at them with a smile that could rival Gilderoy Lockhart's. "Let the feast begin!"

As the music increased in volume (Dumbledore had, in addition to the tinkling of glassware, provided background music in the form of abrupt loud shrieks at the end of every eight counts), the food gradually piled up on the table, and Harry, starved after the train journey, tucked in to his meal gratefully. Mashed potatoes and beef steaks disappeared at an alarming rate; when Harry had at last eaten his fill, he started to ponder over Dumbledore's sudden wedding. The idea of Winky and Dumbledore as a couple was disturbing, but what was more disturbing was how Winky, who had always seemed to be drowning in BeerButter/hating Dumbledore, even agreed to marry Dumbledore in the first place.

When he voiced this out to Hermione, she shook her head slightly and said, "Oh, Harry!" while running a comb through her hair. "There's such a fine line between love and hate," she stared at him rather meaningfully. He was too absorbed over the whole marriage issue to notice, so her stare was actually quite meaningless.

"Fine line between love and hate…" he muttered, not really watching as Hermione tugged on her brush, which was caught in one of the tangles of her hair.

Fiercely tackling at her hair, Hermione continued, in one breath, "Well we're having Potions tomorrow we can sneak into the Kitchens or something and ask Dobby I guess." She yanked on her brush and succeeded in pulling out a chunk of brown hair.

"Yeah, okay," Harry grinned. "D'you need any help with the hair thing?"

"Darn, Ginny alert," he heard Hermione say as she whipped out her wand with a flourish of robes. "Nah, thanks, Harry."

She flounced out of the hall as rainbow-coloured sparks tried to untangle her matted mass of hair, and Harry too tried to make his escape by turning around and proceeding towards the exit after her. He was too late; Ginny came sidling up to him for the second time that day. To his dismay, she had perfected a kind of geisha walk to match her powdered face and painted red mouth, although she had, thankfully, done away with the kimono.

"Harry!" Even her voice sounded different—it had a softer tone to it.

There was a snort of derisive laughter when she said that—and even without turning around, the source of such disturbance, Harry knew, could only be the one and only Draco Malfoy.

"So, the Weasel Queen is trying to become Snow White? Having a go at Potter, eh?"

Ginny's white cheeks were building up to a furious shade of pink, and Harry seized the opportunity to flee, hearing with satisfaction Ginny's wail and subsequently, a thud and Malfoy's screams.

Smirking at the Obese Lady, Harry called, "Kickass Karate", and as the Obese Lady swung open to the Griffin Door common room, Harry felt that once in a while, Ginny's black belt in Karate quite made up for her "Nostalgia of the Nineties".

* * *

The next morning Harry was shook awake by a very insistent Ron.

"Time to wake up, dawg," Ron drawled. "Zao Shui Zao Qi Jing Shen Hao!"

For a moment, Harry wondered if he was still stuck in his dream of floating in rotten cabbages.

Ron clicked his tongue impatiently. "It's Chinese for 'Sleeping early, and waking up early, give you full energy for the day'! Ginny was trying to teach me Japanese and Chinese, and it gets stuck in the head, see."

This sentence, coming from Ron, told Harry that this was still part of his nightmare, except that the cabbages were replaced by a lanky red-head.

An impatient roar from Ron told him that it was, unfortunately, not a dream, and Harry, much to his own horror, found himself being pulled out of bed. "Okay, okay, I get it, I'm awake now."

The two of them walked slowly down the hallways to the Grandest Hall, which was slowly filling up with sleepy students. As Harry and Ron settled for a seat at the end of the Griffin Door table, they were greeted by a very cheerful Hermione.

"Morning," she chirped. "The schedules are out, we're having Potions first!"

Harry swore, and was immediately rewarded with a hawk-like glare from Hermione. "Snape isn't that bad, really."

A shower of scrambled eggs flew all over the Griffin Door table as Ron tried to control his laughter, and Harry could not help grinning along. Trust Hermione to look on the bright side, he thought—Snape was a bloody teacher, in every sense of the word. For one, he claimed to be a Prince of sorts, being some kind of relative, or so he said, to Sly the Rim, one of the founders of Hogwarts. Oddly enough, Snape was always seen _bleeding_, whether from the nose, mouth or legs, but whatever the case, he always found a chance to berate Harry. "The Bloody Prince" was his nickname among the students at Hogwarts, but to the Sly the Rims, he was some kind of King.

Breakfast was over too soon, and Harry found himself walking glumly to the Potions dungeons, knowing that the moment he entered the classroom, Snape would find something to pick on. Hopefully, Harry thought, he would not deduct any points from Griffin Door; there were no points yet, were there?

The first sight of Snape he caught as he entered the room was scary enough to make him look again. Snape, although bleeding from the hand, was wearing a hot pink assortment of robes, with a series of red ribbons in his greasy hair.

"Settle down, settle down," Snape said grimly, his cold eyes sweeping all over the room.

"He must be bleeding from the brain!" Ron was nearly in hysterics; Harry and Hermione ducked in time, narrowly missing a flurry of chewed sausages spewing from his mouth.

Hermione puffed indignantly. "Nonsense, he's bleeding from the hand, look. And, Ronald, I must really remind you on your table manners—"

"Whatever, Hermione."

They would have continued bickering had Snape not shoot them a menacing glare. "As you all can see, my attire today is for education purposes only. Today," he paused dramatically, to glare at Neville Shortbottom, "we will strive, with minor or no errors at all, to start on the Polyjuicy Potion."

There was a hissing from his cauldron that punctuated his sentence.

For the first time in Potions Harry found himself grinning; Ron and Hermione gave tiny smiles back. The three of them had made a potion in second-year to find out the true secret about the Chamber of Cigarettes in Hogwarts.

"This potion," Snape was saying, "will take _quite_ some time to make, and I will be providing you with the materials. For now, I will test the potion—any volunteers? I need a girl."

Lavender Brown was doubling over in laughter as she stood up and walked to the front of the class. "Here, Professor," she managed to choke out, then hastily added, "I mean, your Highness."

Snape added the strand of hair she had provided into the Polyjuicy Potion. It turned a sick shade of yellow. "When I drink this," he eyed the glass as though disgusted, "I will be transformed into Lavender Brown."

The infectious giggle from Lavender was traveling across the entire distance of the dungeon, and Harry found himself joining in although he had no idea what everyonewas laughing about.

Pinching his nose with his bleeding hand, Snape downed the drink in one gulp; the whole class of seventh-year Griffin Doors and Sly the Rims, all quiet save for Lavender, watched on with bated breath. Snape's face was slowly contorting, the features changing bit by bit; he swayed slightly and grabbed the edge of the table for support.

All of a sudden, a loud hiss came from seemingly nowhere—and fur sprouted all over Snape. Thick black fur cascaded down his face as the greasy hair balded into a disappearing patch, and Lavender's laughter grew over the puzzled murmurs into a shriek. And at that moment, Harry realized everything, it was _animal fur_ that Lavender had added into the Potion; the _animal fur_ explained everything…

He fought an urge to laugh as Snape, in his hot pink robes, started mewing noisily at the class.

"Lavender Brown," he hissed, in a voice that spoke of Detention, punishments, and points-deducted-from-Griffin Door. Draco Malfoy, who had been looking confused since Snape transformed, was now looking around the room with a maniac glee on his face.

Snape stumbled forward in Lavender's direction, tripping over his too-long robes. But before he had time to do anything, the bell rang and students fled, leaving Snape with nothing but an empty classroom and a hell lot of cat fur.

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**Move in for the kill. REVIEW!**

( HAHA who noticed the clue about the 'yellow potion'? I don't quite like the way this chapter ended off the wording of the sentence, that is oh look, a bracket within a bracket within a bracket, but give me your comments. The next chapter will be called, The Commands of the Phoenix. )


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